


Impossible Patience

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hair, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Lullabies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki allows you to play with his hair, and you find your own way to thank him.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 12
Kudos: 244





	Impossible Patience

It was almost surprising, how easy it was to convince him. 

Last night, you’d fallen down a YouTube hole of tutorials for various complicated braided hairstyles. When you woke up in the morning, your mind was still half-focused on the finished products of those videos, and your fingers itched to give it a try. And Loki had all that long, gorgeous, inky-black hair just sitting there on his head...

You had been prepared to grovel, to plead, to bargain with any number of unpleasant chores, to offer who knows what kinds of favors, but he pretty much agreed right away. And so he ended up sitting on the floor in front of the couch with your laptop in his lap and a scattering of hair ties on the floor beside him. 

You started simple, of course, just running the brush carefully through his hair to make sure that any tangles had been smoothed away. After that, maybe you’d indulged yourself a little by combing your fingers through so you could relish the silky softness of Loki’s hair. It was luxurious and perfect, and you could honestly have spent the rest of the day just playing with it. 

But you had a mission.

So you squeezed his shoulders and asked him to hit Play on your laptop so you could follow the steps in the first video. This one was probably the least complicated of all the tutorials, so you were pretty well able to follow along. As soon as you finished, he reached up to touch your work, but you smacked his hands away and picked up your phone. 

“No touching,” you said.

“It’s my hair!” But he was laughing a bit, which made you smile as you pulled up the camera on your phone so you could take a picture of what you’d managed to do.

“But it’s _my_ work,” you replied, and handed him your phone so he could see what you’d done. He hummed appreciatively and clicked through to the next video without your having to ask him. 

That was how the two of you spent the majority of the afternoon: Loki sitting patiently while you fumbled and swore your way through various overly-complicated hairstyles. He didn’t fall into the trap of trying to re-explain things to you, even when you had to force yourself to take deep breaths in order to calm down. Maybe he knew better than to get on your bad side when you were this frustrated. Maybe he understood the importance of figuring things out for yourself. So he stayed quiet even as you groaned and swore under your breath, and each time you finished, his appreciation of your finished work always seemed directly correlated to your previous level of frustration.

When you’d gotten through the last video in your playlist and taken one final picture of your finished work, you undid all the braids and combed your fingers through his hair again. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d immediately leapt to his feet, anxious to move on to some other kind of activity, but he stayed still so you could touch him. Maybe he liked the attention too. You alternated between playing with his hair and caressing his scalp, and here and there, when he let a little moan escape, you smiled but said nothing. He deserved this. Really, he deserved so much more than this, but if playing with his hair was a tiny little way you could make him feel good, you’d do it.

“You have the prettiest hair,” you murmured, sitting back a little so you could appreciate the way it caught the light. You’d always gotten the sense that he didn’t get many compliments growing up, so you made sure to give him plenty. Usually, he just sort of waved them off or tried to change the subject, but right now, with this quiet peace between you, it felt like a good time. “It’s so soft and silky, and strong.” You tugged on it gently, as if to prove your point.

“Mm, I grew it myself.” There. That was his usual attempt at deflection. You shook your head and redoubled your efforts, diagonally parting the hair on the top of his head so you could practice one of the easier styles you’d just tried.

“Well, it’s gorgeous.” Your voice was matter-of-fact as you worked half of his hair into a French braid. “You grow good hair.” When you were finished with that half, you loosely fastened a hair tie around the end just to hold it all together while you worked on the other half of his head. This went a little bit quicker: just three more, smaller French braids almost perpendicular to the first. “You do a lot of good things, no matter how much you want to pretend you don’t. You sing like an angel and dance like a god.” He drew in a breath, likely to try to dismiss you with a joke or something, but you pushed quickly onward. “And when you tell a story, people can’t help but feel like they’re right there in the thick of it, even without any of your illusions. And you are so _strong_. Strength, like...radiates from you. It’s almost like a tangible thing: Like, even when I can feel myself about to spin off out of control, just standing next to you makes me feel like I can hold things together.” Your face grew hot at your confession. Maybe that was a little too much. You gathered up the rest of his hair, including the ends of his braids, and fastened them into a loose bun. When you were finished, you leaned back a little to take in your work, and then rested your hands on his shoulders. “And you always seem to know exactly what to do when there’s a problem, even if other people are usually too stupid to listen to you. And also you’re fucking beautiful.”

Loki laughed again, then, and rose up onto his knees so he could turn to face you. When he reached up to cup your face in his hands, so he could pull you in for a kiss, you let him. He did not seek to deepen it, only brushed his lips, almost chastely, against your own. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to give me a complex,” he warned, and then kissed the tip of your nose. You shook your head.

“You need to hear these things,” you said fiercely. “I’m going to say them to you every single day.” Maybe he’d never feel quite right sharing every single detail about his past, but you knew enough to know what a miracle he was. It was your turn, now, to take his face in your hands and drag him closer so you could kiss him again. He let you. When you pulled back, you dragged your teeth along his lower lip and then wrapped your arms around him so you could hold him. “I’m so _fucking_ glad you’re around.” Your voice was rough with emotion. You knew he heard it, because he slipped his arms around you to pull you even closer. Without warning, he yanked you off of the couch and laid you down on the floor, keeping one hand on the back of your head so you wouldn’t hit your head on the ground.

He stretched out above you, and though he’d definitely startled you before, you couldn’t help but feel perfectly safe. Protected. When he met your eyes, his seemed to glitter for a moment—unshed tears?—before he devoured you in yet another kiss.


End file.
